Rising cost of grief

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When the nurse returned I told her the patient was asleep. As soon she left, we wrapped the body in the bed sheet and carried it to the car.” Sometimes, medics make it easier for caregivers by giving them discharge forms. These forms, though, have to be stamped by a mortuary attendant before the body can be taken out of the hospital.

In Entebbe’s Division B, every morning, at 7am, you will grit your teeth at the sound of the announcer on the community radio blowing the dust of his microphone. Then, he will play Paul Kafeero’s Walumbe Zaaya or Essaawa y’Okuzaawa for a few minutes. This is the cue that death has struck.
The announcements cost Shs2,000, but this is only the beginning. Long gone are the days when we would wrap our loved ones in bark, sending them on their way to the ancestors. Nowadays, except for your wedding, you funeral will be the most expensive occasion you will have the honour of gracing.
The pain of loss is incomparable. Usually, the first feeling is one of disorientation. However, after the confusion subsides, chaos reigns, and top on the list is who to approach for a loan.
When Claire Gamisha’s grandmother died, she had just paid her monthly rent of Shs400,000 and settled her debts. “I had only Shs100,000 on my bank account to take me through the month. The return trip to Bulambuli District costs Shs60,000. Luckily, my workmates passed around a condolence form and collected Shs150,000.”
Gamisha’s financial woes deepened when she reached the village. A family meeting decided that the burial would cost Shs5million, to be contributed by family members. “I had to make a few calls before I could raise another Shs200,000 to contribute towards the burial expenses.”

The lucrative business of treating bodies
On an average day, about 50 bodies go through Kampala City Council Authority (KCCA) City Mortuary. Relatives have to pay Shs100,000 before the mortuary attendants release the body. Interestingly, this money is not receipted. It is pocketed by the attendant who has worked on the body.
Kenneth Akatwijuke, a forensic officer attached to the mortuary, says most of the bodies brought in are only treated. “A postmortem is only done if it is requested by the police or the relatives. A police postmortem is free-of-charge, while relatives have to part with Shs50,000, which is receipted. However, the money for treating the body belongs to the attendants.”
To escape the expense, people have taken to stealing bodies from hospitals.

When Shifa Hassan‘s uncle died of respiratory failure in Entebbe’s Grade B hospital, she had to think fast. “At about 7pm, a few minutes after the nurse gave him an injection my uncle began to struggle for breath. I turned him on his side to face the wall. I knew he was dying, so I called my brother and told him to bring a car. When the nurse returned I told her the patient was asleep. As soon she left, we wrapped the body in the bed sheet and carried it to the car.”
Sometimes, medics make it easier for caregivers by giving them discharge forms. These forms, though, have to be stamped by a mortuary attendant before the body can be taken out of the hospital.
However, Shadia Nakafeero was not so lucky when her husband died last week. “The doctor asked for Shs20,000 for the discharge form. We did not have the money so he called the mortuary attendants. At the mortuary, we were charged Shs100,000 but we bargained until the attendant accepted Shs80,000.”
Even though he had died in the morning, her husband’s body was treated last, towards the evening.

Funerals with swag
Ronald Zaake, the managing director of A-Plus Funeral Management, insists that a funeral is about celebrating a life. “If a grieving person came to me, I would never talk about money. What matters is what they want for their loved one; what they want people to remember on the last day. Money is not an issue.”
However, money cannot be separated from a funeral.

Probably, that is why the majority of Ugandans shun funeral homes. “You find a managing director of a major corporation coming here and asking for only the basics,” Zaake says, continuing, “He asks, ‘How much is your cheapest coffin?’ A man has Shs100million in his account but wants to bury his mother in a Shs80,000 coffin! This is a Ugandan mentality that I try to change. I tell them I don’t have cheap coffins, but I can help them arrange the best sendoff.”
At the funeral home, caskets range from Shs 800,000 to Shs15million, although nowadays, because the casket is the center of attraction at funerals, the Shs5million caskets are trending.
On the lower side of the scale, you will find funeral homes such as Curious Funeral Services which charge a modest fee. For instance, they charge a paltry Shs1million if they are going to be in charge of the body for two days. Every extra day is billed at Shs20,000.
Percy Kigozi, the director, is a shrewd business woman who kept on sending me pictures of her best caskets and tiled graves finished with max pans. It felt surreal getting these pictures in my WhatsApp feed. “Our coffins vary from Shs700,000 to Shs7million. However, the Shs1.5million coffin is popular, but you can buy the one of Shs800,000. It is not a bad coffin.”
For Zaake, it is all about calming the bereaved so that they can mourn in peace and quiet.

“It is traumatizing to see the body of a loved one. When we remove the body, people calm down and can begin planning for the funeral and announcements.”
At the funeral parlour, the body is embalmed, dressed, beautified, and stored. The package includes grave construction, tents, and order of service books. “Three things make up a funeral package – transport, food, and the casket,” Zaake says, continuing, “The way I cost someone taking me to Gulu is not the way I cost someone taking me to Mityana. For the former, I charge Shs1.8m for transport while for the later, I charge Shs350,000.”
Kigozi’s fees also depend on the distance to be travelled. “From Kampala to Masaka, I charge Shs600,000 but I may use two cars; one car to transport the body to church in Kampala, and another one to transport it upcountry.”
Of late, funeral services also offer catering services. “The highest number of people we have fed was at (AIGP Andrew Felix) Kaweesi’s funeral. I had never seen such a big number of priests at a funeral. Rubaga Cathedral filled for the first time during a funeral service. We had to put tents in the compound. On the last day, in Lwengo (District), we fed close to 10,000 people. A plate of food ranges from Shs5,000 to Shs8,500, depending on what is on the menu.”
At Curious Funeral Services, if all you want is rice, matooke, beans, and beef, you will have to part with Shs5,000 per plate. However, if the burial grounds are far from Kampala, the price may go up.

Postponing funerals
Some communities are slowly moving away from the norm of burying people two days after their death.

They postpone the funeral to the weekend, when people have time to attend it.
David Ouma puzzled his friends when he seemed unbothered after receiving news of his cousin’s death on a Tuesday morning. What his friends did not know was that in Ouma’s village in Lumino, Busia District, burials happen on Saturday, even if the deceased died on a Monday.
“We transport the body across the border to Kenya and keep it at Tanaka Nursing Home. They have fridges which can preserve it for a year. When we have enough money, we collect it and then, organise the funeral.”
This trend is also catching up in the city. The longest a body has been kept at A-Plus funeral parlour is a year. “People tell us to keep the body until they get money or until the deceased’s children return from overseas,” Zaake says, adding, “Then, they instruct us to plan the function to begin on Friday and end on Sunday. A funeral is the last sendoff, so why the rush to bury?”
For every day the body is stored in the parlour, the family must part with Shs50,000.

Choosing the funeral theme
When Prof Lawrence Mukiibi willed that he should have a white funeral, it seemed strange, but not to Zaake. “People always ask for themes – lots of flowers or candles. Some chose music.”
Ronnie Kafeero, a graduate of psychology, is making a name as a professional funeral singer. Kafeero only sings at Christian funerals and burials, although Muslims hire his public address system for their funerals.
“My fees depend on the distance I have to travel and the equipment I have to move with. I employ six people, who include my driver, organist and private secretary. If I have to carry my public address system, organ, generator and sing throughout the night up to the grave, the costs are higher. If I come with only the organ I charge between Shs600,000 and Shs800,000.”
If he has to travel with his entire entourage, Kafeero charges between Shs2.5million and Shs3million. “The fee is negotiable. If someone comes to me while crying, I reduce the amount. Because of the cost, some want me to sing for a few hours only. Those who come while dry eyed, pay whatever amount I ask for. During the Ivan Ssemwanga’s funeral I sang for four days. On the last day, I sang up to the grave and back. I charged Shs2.5mllionn. My music comforted those who were crying, especially his relatives from Kayunga.”
Sometimes, Kafeero sings for charity, with the aim of advertising his services. “Recently, my friend lost an aunt. He could not pay the amount I asked for, but I knew there would be a huge crowd of influential people at the burial in Masaka. So I went to advertise my services.”
Professional mourners are still unheard of in Uganda but in West Africa, no funeral is complete without them. For instance, the Kumasi Funeral Criers Association in Ghana revised their fees in January 2016. Crying with swag costs GHS3,000 (Shs2.4million); deep wailing and shouting costs GHS2,700 (Shs2.2million); crying and rolling on the ground costs GHS3,500 (Shs2.8million), and crying and walking around the funeral ground costs GHS2,500 (Shs2million).

Low end funerals
Not everyone can afford to send off their loved ones with fanfare and themes. Joseph Kiwanuka, a carpenter at Ku Bbiri, Mulago roundabout, has been in the business of making coffins for 15 years. “The price of a coffin depends on the design. Of course, our customers come while crying but they are not too sad that they cannot choose a stylish coffin. The most stylish have a sliding mechanism to allow for the viewing of the face.”
A white Formica coffin goes for Shs1million while wooden coffins cost between Shs170,000 and Shs600,000. “If the customer is wearing expensive-looking clothes, we charge a higher fee,” Kiwanuka says, adding that complementary services he offers include a cross and bed sheet.
In Buganda, most bodies are wrapped in bark cloth, and then, a bed sheet, before being placed in the coffin. Opposite the mortuary, a length of new bark cloth cost between Shs30,000 and Shs50,000 depending on the size and height of the deceased. However, for the poor, torn or worn out bark cloth costs Shs15,000.
Grave diggers seem to have a uniform fee, with most of them charging Shs800,000.

Kigozi says an ordinary grave can be dug at Shs850,000 “If you want us to use tiles or max pans, we charge Shs1.3m for the former and Shs2m for the latter.”
Nowadays, the death of a loved one is a time to be dreaded because so much money has to be borrowed and spent on one occasion. Maybe, it is time we adopted the culture of saving for our own funerals.

Expensive last funeral rites
In most African cultures that practise last funeral rites – or second burials – a lot of money has to be spent of feeding and buying alcohol for those celebrating the life of the departed. In most of these functions, even those who did not attend the first burial will find the courage to show their face. Previously, in the central region, last funeral rites were synonymous with binge drinking and eating as well as sexual immorality during the night, aimed at procreating to replace the dead. The next morning, after all the fanfare, the heir would be installed.
If this rite of passage is not performed, the deceased is shunned and it is believed that one would be punished by the ancestors for eternity. He or she will live a lonly existence of suffering. This belief brings to mind Ali Mazrui’s The Trial of Christopher Okigbo. In the book, in After Africa (where Africans go when they die), Okigbo – a widely acknowledged Nigerian poet, writer, lecturer, and accomplished soldier – is unfortunate that after he dies in battle, his spirit is arrested, tried, and sentenced. His crime is that he abandoned the noble profession of writing to go to the front and fight for the independence of Biafra.